Midnight Games(27)

Nate finished his beer. He slammed the bottle on the tabletop. “Yeah. Let’s do it. Shark is right. Come on, Dana. Let’s go out and just goof around. Like we used to.”

The four of us left the bar and stepped out into the cool, still night. The Fear Street Acres shopping center stood across the street from Nights. The stores were dimly lit, the doors and windows barred and locked.

We walked along the shops, peering into windows, joking about the junk we saw, goofing on one another. Shark overturned a few trash cans, just because he could, I guess.

The noise must have awakened a dark-uniformed security guard, who poked his head around the wall of a building. We quickly darted into a store entrance.

I held my breath, listening for his footsteps. But he didn’t come after us.

Shark snickered. “Are we having fun yet?”

I held on to Nate as we made our way out of the shopping center. Clouds rolled over the moon. A cold wind ruffled my hair.

We stopped and kissed. The kiss lasted a long time. We had to run to catch up to Nikki and Shark.

A few minutes later, we found ourselves outside the Fear Street Cemetery. Tangled trees formed a wall along the sidewalk. Behind them, I could see ragged rows of low gravestones poking up at strange angles.

The wind whispered through the trees, shaking the bare limbs, like in a bad horror movie.

“You’re supposed to hold your breath when you pass a graveyard,” Shark said.

“What happens if you don’t?” Nikki asked.

He grinned at her. “Feathers come out of your nose.”

Shark and Nate laughed. Nikki gave Shark a hard shove that sent him staggering into a fat tree trunk.

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about that,” I said.

I turned to Nate. He had his eyes on a tall tree a few feet ahead of us. “Hey, Nate—?” I called. I reached for him, but he ducked away.

I saw the look of horror spread over his face. “Look OUT!” he screamed. “It’s the one-eyed bird!”

I squinted up into the tree. I couldn’t see it. “Where?” I cried.

Nate pointed frantically to a tree limb. Then he darted to one side. Off-balance, he fell to the grass. “Look out! It’s attacking!” he screamed.

He dropped to his knees and raised his arms to shield his face. “Run! It’s attacking! Run!”





23

My breath caught in my throat. I heard a fluttering sound.

The flap of wings?

No. Dead leaves blown by the wind.

Shark laughed. He pulled Nate to his feet. “You’re joking, right?” he said.

His face knotted with terror, Nate searched the treetops. “The bird—”

“What’s your problem?” Shark asked him. “None of us saw any bird. It was probably leaves falling or something.”

I took Nate’s arm. He was trembling, breathing hard. “I saw it,” he insisted. “It came swooping down at me.”

“Whoa. Creepy,” Nikki said.

Shark grinned. He turned to me. “How many beers did Nate have tonight?”

“No. I saw it,” Nate repeated. “I saw the blackbird.” He shook his head. “What’s happening to me?”


Nate said to meet him in the gym after school on Monday. I wasn’t feeling great. I had a throbbing headache, and I’d been feeling dizzy and kinda weak again.

Just nerves, I hoped.

The thud of a basketball on the gym floor made my head pound. Some kids were having a relaxed game of basketball. I recognized Nate and Yuri and Shark and some girls from my class.

And then I saw Whitney. The others were laughing and kidding around. But she had this intense expression on her face. I watched her dribble up to Shark, fake him out, and go in to score with a driving layup.

Whitney is on the varsity girls’ team, I remembered.

I turned to leave, but Nate came running over. “Hey, Dana. How’s it going? Go get some sneakers on. Join us.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I’m not feeling great, and—”

No way I’d join a game with Whitney on the court.

What was Nate thinking?

“Hey, come on—get in the game!” Shark shouted, waving to me. “We’re going to play shirts and skins. The girls are going to be the skins!”

Some kids actually laughed at that.

“I’m feeling kinda weird,” I told Nate. “I’ll wait for you over there.” I pointed to the bleachers.

I took a seat in the second row. I rubbed my forehead with my fingers, trying to rub the ache away. I had my eyes closed. I listened to the thud thud thud of the ball and the scrape of sneakers over the floor.

I heard a shout and opened my eyes—in time for the ball to smash me in the chest.